


Cafuné

by TheoreticalOnly



Series: The Incompleteness Theorem [2]
Category: Heaven Will Be Mine (Visual Novel)
Genre: And Get Her Hair Pulled, F/F, Latinx Mars, Luna-Terra Just Wants To Be Loved, Multilingual Mars, Multilingual People Are Better With Their Tongues and That's Just Facts, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Sweet but Filthy, The Mare Crisium is at least partially sentient and Knows What's Happening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 12:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoreticalOnly/pseuds/TheoreticalOnly
Summary: /ˌka.fu.ˈnɛ/ (Brazilian Portuguese)(n.) the act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair





	Cafuné

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sorry.
> 
> Thanks so much to TheBitterLesbian for being my beta!
> 
> Catch me on Tumblr @ mare-crisium.tumblr.com! I'll be taking requests for HWBM fics to help populate the fandom with fic. :3c

"I missed you," Luna-Terra says. It emanates from her throat like a growl, or a purr, and Mars can't parse out which. Not that she cares to. "Missed you, Mars."

"We've been apart for a week, Luna-T."

"Still missed you."

Mars watches from the pilot's seat as Luna-Terra peels off her regulation undershirt, revealing an intricate network of scar tissue that mottles her whole left side. It's a vestige of conflict unlike any other Mars has ever seen, the only substantial physical wound sustained by Earth's spacefaring soldiers in the War That Wasn't Fought. She's always in awe of it — in awe of Luna-T and her humanity, of the vulnerability of flesh and blood. The fragile beauty of that which we can lose.

Finally: "I missed you, too."

The time is 0100. It's dark inside the Mare Crisium, save for the patchwork of light given off by the more essential panel arrays. In their sparse illumination, Luna-Terra cuts a striking penumbra, the organic lines of her human sinews softened by the neon blue and scarlet haze of her ship-self's machine interiors. The bruise-like hues ebb and settle into the lines of Luna-Terra's musculature as trails of watercolor, dripping violet into the juts and curves of her clavicle and pelvis, glancing across the curled mass of her hair. For a moment, Mars doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. She just prays this is real.

"You're so beautiful," Mars whispers. She braces a hand against Luna-Terra's hip and squeezes. "Come here. Kiss me."

Luna-Terra closes in, clambering up to straddle Mars' lap in the pilot's seat. "Say please," she murmurs, pressing the cold tip of her nose to Mars' temple.

Mars leans back against the headrest and sighs. "Please kiss me, Luna." She threads her fingers into the volume of her lover's hair and pulls, eliciting a low moan. "Please, cariño."

She tugs again at Luna-Terra's hair, harder, and this time the girl obeys. Mars effervesces at the timid kiss; it reads like a question, not importunate, not quite pleading, but she answers in kind with the nails of her right hand in Luna-T's scalp and a harsh pull of the hair with the other. Her lover moans deeply at the not-pain, and her hips snap forwards in an involuntarily pursuit of friction. It's an intoxicating thought, but as they are afforded the luxury of the time, Mars is determined to undo Luna-Terra slowly, with intention, at her leisure. There are pleasures to be wrought from patience. Pleasure is what's on her mind.

* * *

**Subject: While You've Been Away**

**Origin:** External Ship-self Communications

 **Author:** Unavailable

> Despite the vast cosmic mystery that surrounds me I know there must be a God, because you've never failed to come back to me. [REDACTED] once called it your most reliable metric, you know. I'm inclined to agree.
> 
> There isn't too much to report. It's been a slow day without you, and it's been an even slower night. These bunks are narrow, but mine feels huge without you in it. It feels colder, too. Did you know you're a human furnace? I haven't altered my bunk's climate controls for months now. Not that I couldn't. I have the rank. It's just that you always keep me warm. Tonight, I've raised the temperature by four degrees. I'm under a blanket as we speak.
> 
> It's in the little things that I feel your absence the most.
> 
> [REDACTED] has been asking about you. I know you're a little intimidated by her (I was too, at first) but she's honestly just... sweet. Sweet in the ways you've never been. Don't worry, that's not a dig at you. Being a bit of an ass is just your natural disposition. It's one of your many charms.
> 
> I hope you know it's only out of love that I call you an ass. And only because I know I'm an ass, too.
> 
> But about [REDACTED]. She brought up a few interesting points about the shortcomings of the plan to decommission the Space Program. I thought you'd like to hear them. In person, of course. It seems relevant to the discussion we had the other night.
> 
> Anyways, back to my lonely existence.
> 
> I was just now scrolling through those pictures you sent me this morning. Thinking of you. Imagining you here with me. That expression you're making in this picture as you [REDACTED] yourself is just... god. Pornographically blissful. If I didn't know better I wouldn't believe it's genuine but I've seen it light your pretty face up a few times when we [REDACTED]. And all I know is that I want to see it again. In front of me. Is that pathetic? I hope not, because I'm going to be [REDACTED] myself tonight to the thought of it.
> 
> Come home soon. You might be insufferable, but you're more insufferable when I can't say it to your face.
> 
> I love you.

* * *

"You're so lovely when you beg, you know." Mars sucks tenderly at the lobe of Luna-Terra's ear and punctuates the affection with a light nip. "Sometimes I can't believe I get to see you like this. _Feel_ you like this. I almost like this version of you better, when you're too distracted to be a brat."

"Not fair," Luna-Terra grumbles. She dips her head down for a quick kiss, passing the tip of her tongue over the plush moue of Mars' space-chapped lips. "Maybe I'm just a brat so you'll do all these terrible things to me as revenge."

Mars laughs. "Malcriada. If you had the foresight and the temperament to play me like that, I'd be proud. Truth is, you only act nice when you want me to fuck you. And really, that's just peak levels of brattiness." She slips a hand between Luna-Terra's legs and palms her through the stiff fabric of her pants, prompting Luna-Terra to buck and cry out an octave higher than her speaking voice. The veteran pilot is deliciously responsive, and Mars capitalizes on the advantage of their position, pressing the pad of her thumb against Luna-Terra's clit and arranging her index and middle knuckles at the optimal angle for her to grind down on. "That's it, Luna-T. So beautiful."

Luna-Terra practically melts against her, head lolling back reflexively as Mars scrapes the edges of her teeth up along the alabaster column of her throat. "Fuck," Luna-Terra whines, increasing her vice grip on her lover's shoulders. _"Fuck,_ Mars."

Mars smiles into the scarred pink skin at the junction of Luna-Terra's lower jaw. "Yes, mi amor, don't worry. That's still on our itinerary."

She unhooks the fingers of her left hand from their hold on Luna-Terra's hair and leans back in the chair to drink up the spectacle that's unravelling and moaning and gasping before her; the rhythmic and yet frantic oscillation of Luna-Terra's low-slung hips is almost criminal. It occurs to Mars, watching the play of red and blue lights across the protrusion of her iliac crests in utter and consuming awe, that this must be proof of some benevolent deity, or at least the existence of a just karmic system in which a great action she's yet to undertake has celestially awarded her this recompense.

The one flaw in that logic is that she can’t possibly deserve this.

Mars' long-lashed eyes drift up from the hips rutting against her to the plane of Luna-Terra's abdomen, rolling as hills in the daze of her arousal, to the utilitarian black sports bra Luna-Terra neglected to remove. "That that off."

It's not a request. Luna-Terra obliges, and Mars is upon her without any further ado, teeth finding purchase on the delta between her breasts and imposing upon it a deep and branding mark. Mars had once thought it a masochistic or perhaps exhibitionist tendency, but their continued sexual acquaintance has allowed Mars to surmise the truth of the matter. What Luna-Terra craves is the relinquishing of control, the possessive nature of the lovebites peppering her skin for all to see. The knowledge that those marks will hold the ghost of her lover’s touch until her lover’s touch is upon her once more.

Luna-Terra sighs beneath the measured administration of that stinging adoration, spine arching gratefully and shoulders rolling back so as to render her heart better, fully, to the sweep of her lover’s tongue, the careful bites and kisses she scatters as stardust across her skin. She’s slowed her pace so that the drag of Mars’ fingers between her legs is almost metronomically steady; her eyes have long fallen shut, lashes painting shadows down the flush of her cheeks. Every breath feels as though an exaltation, every moan a prayer, and Mars thinks to herself, as she butterflies her lips against her lover’s fluttering pulse: _there’s something holy in this._

* * *

**Subject: I Want You to [REDACTED] Me**

**Origin:** External Ship-self Communications %%%Extract

 **Author:** Unavailable

> User [REDACTED]: are u awake starshine
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i didn’t think so
> 
> User [REDACTED]: but i hope u see this when u wake
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i swam in the rings of saturn today
> 
> User [REDACTED]: and the [REDACTED] was left grey with cosmic dust
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i sampled some as i was cleaning her off
> 
> User [REDACTED]: it was billions of years old
> 
> User [REDACTED]: had gone billions of years before it graced a human hand
> 
> User [REDACTED]: and i wondered
> 
> User [REDACTED]: did i spoil it with my touch?
> 
> User [REDACTED]: or
> 
> User [REDACTED]: on coming in contact with the stuff of stars and planets
> 
> User [REDACTED]: did i become more like them?
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i miss you starshine
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i still feel your gravity
> 
> User [REDACTED]: it calls me home
> 
> _User [REDACTED] has terminated this instant communication_

* * *

"Mars," Luna-Terra says, "so good to me."

The girl in question hums, as much a response as she's capable of giving at the moment. Her mouth is otherwise occupied with the concerted worship of her lover's breast, tongue circling and swiping against a piqued nipple in practiced patterns that advance Luna-Terra's arousal even more swiftly than the hand working deftly between her legs.

"Want you to fuck me," Luna-Terra clarifies through gritted teeth.

Mars smiles and withdraws her mouth from Luna-Terra's pert breast with a soft pop. "So impatient," she goads, pulling her roughly by the hair. "All good things happen in time, Luna-T."

The pilot astride her is, at this time, incapable of speech, her senses shot and her breath short as her hair is pulled again, this time guiding her forwards to seal their lips with a kiss. Mars can feel how wet she's gotten even through her uniform trousers, and she's incandescently aware of her own burgeoning arousal, the heat pooling in her belly and thighs, the tight pangs demanding resolution that afflict her with every desperate sound drawn from her lover. It's a tempting proposition. Fucking her.

"Ask me nicely," she croons. "I won't fuck you til I believe you need it."

"I do need it, Mars," Luna-Terra implores, grinding her hips down more insistently, "need it like air, need you like air, need you to fuck me."

Mars doesn't need more invitation to slip her hand beneath the band of Luna-Terra's pants. She's surprised, though delighted, that Luna-Terra has chosen not to wear panties, and her fingers slide easily against the heat and slick therein. Luna-Terra practically convulses at the touch, crying out inarticulately, her nails digging into the bare skin of Mars' dark freckled shoulders and leaving crescent indentations. "That's it, Luna-T."

Her thumb pries gently at Luna-Terra's clit and, with no fabric barrier between them, the skin-to-skin touch (blood-to-blood, self-to-self, ghost-to-ghost) is electric; Mars feels the phantom reflection of that touch and purrs in tandem with her lover's keen, their voices filling the cavernous space of the Mare Crisium cockpit, drowning out the background resonance of the machine and its computers.

"Mars."

"Dime, cariño." Her middle finger rests at Luna-Terra's entrance, and her mouth finds its place on Luna-Terra's other breast, to the soft pink-brown halo of the areola, tongue just teasing its edge. "Cuentame."

_"Mars, please."_

"Please what, amor?"

"Mars, I need you, _justfuckmeplease."_

She isn't so heartless as to deny Luna-Terra the realization of that fervent entreaty. Mars' lips close around her nipple and she passes the flat of her tongue over it once, hard, before sucking, harder, in harmony with the abrupt thrust of not one but two fingers inside Luna-T. The girl's back curls as the arc of a bow, and she fucks herself onto the length of Mars' fingers, down to the knuckle.

"So perfect, Luna-T, so beautiful." Mars quirks her fingers in a come-hither motion as Luna-Terra rocks slowly into her touch, intensifying the play of her tongue against her breast. "Just let go."

* * *

**Subject: Thinking of You**

**Origin:** External Ship-self Communications %%%Extract

 **Author:** Unavailable

> User [REDACTED]: i'm awake mi amor
> 
> User [REDACTED]: sorry i missed ur messages
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i just woke up
> 
> User [REDACTED]: couldn't sleep without you here
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i dreamed something peculiar
> 
> User [REDACTED]: we were on earth
> 
> User [REDACTED]: do you remember earth?
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i remember it more in colors and feelings
> 
> User [REDACTED]: green warmth and cool blue skies and clouds
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i remember the taste of mango
> 
> User [REDACTED]: the stickiness on my hands and chin
> 
> User [REDACTED]: i dreamed we were there
> 
> User [REDACTED]: on earth
> 
> User [REDACTED]: and i took you beneath the mango tree
> 
> User [REDACTED]: until i'd had my fill of you
> 
> _User [REDACTED] has terminated this instant communication_

* * *

Luna-Terra, subsumed by the pleasure of Mars moving inside her, rides her fingers with abandon, bracing herself on the back of the pilot's chair as Mars' mouth works methodically at her breasts, stoking the fire of her ecstasy almost to the point of crescendo. Mars uses her free hand to unzip her pants and, _finally,_ to respond to the ache of her own body, the need for release. She’s so close already, just by virtue of her partner’s beauty, her unrestraint, her radiance, the filthy fucking sounds dripping as honey from her lips, psalms on the heaven of their communion.

“So close, Mars,” Luna-Terra gasps, “so close.”

“Just let go,” Mars replies, echoing herself, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Luna-Terra's gravity fluctuates between them as the Mare Crisium's tidal reactor responds involuntarily to the heightened emotional state of its pilot, and the pull between the girls intensifies, Mars fucking Luna-Terra, their bodies moving together as binary stars, hurtling towards one another in space, heat, sweat, the thick scent of sex, human and not human, catalysts and reagents, faster, harder, closer.

Mars hears her lover’s climax before she feels it, Luna-Terra crying out once before going silent, bearing down tight around her fingers; it’s impossible for Mars not to follow, and she finishes in silence, panting against Luna-Terra’s feverishly hot chest.

After the chaos, there is stillness. Luna-Terra’s hands come to cup Mars at the base of her skull, holding her close, her fingers threading into the cropped black hair at the nape of her neck. For a moment, the laws of physics are broken; neither one can distinguish where she ends and her lover begins, and neither can the Mare Crisium, because it feels Mars, and Mars feels it, an ancillary pull at the edges of her soul.

Outside, the nightly ship-self hangar wash cycle is activated, and jets of water begin to drum on the cockpit, creating a sensation of reverb. In the distant recesses of her memories, Mars recalls a similar sensory experience from a life and place she has mostly forgotten; rain patters melodically on the tin roof of her conscience, and she feels the Mare Crisium absorbing that fragment of memory into the circuits of its sentience, placing it on the peripheries of Luna-Terra’s thoughts.

“Rain,” Luna-Terra murmurs. She smiles. The lights of the panels dim slightly, perhaps in response to Luna-Terra’s exhaustion. She blinks wearily at Mars, still short of breath. “Do you remember rain?”

“Yeah.” Mars extracts her fingers from between her lover’s thighs and feels a shiver upon seeing the thread of come on her fingertips that links them for a moment longer. “Yeah, Luna-T. I remember rain.”

Luna-Terra curls closer, rumbling contentedly as Mars begins to stroke her hair. For her part, Mars is mesmerized by the dance of reds and blues across her nigh-translucent curls, moving like phosphenes, never stagnant.

“Do you miss it?”

Mars shifts to allow Luna-Terra to settle more comfortably on her lap, arms looped around each other, the latter resting her head in the crook of the former’s neck. “Hm.” Mars bestows a kiss upon the crown of her hair. “There are things I miss about it. But I know that I’ll have those things again when we terraform the moon and other bodies.”

Luna-Terra kisses the hollow of her throat. “Like rain?”

“Like rain.”


End file.
